


Malware Detection System Failure

by ChloShow



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Drugs, Heart-to-Heart, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloShow/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilfoyle and Carla are both assholes who get each other, and Carla gets that Gilfoyle's regretfully into Dinesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Carla was bisexual. He was sure of this. Her About Me section on Facebook clearly said: Interested in Men and Women.

So he was certainly shocked to learn that Carla was Not Interested in him.

“Look, my rule book may be a little thinner than most people’s, but the rules I _do_ have, I keep in place for a reason. And that includes not dating coworkers,” she took a hit and handed the glass pipe to Gilfoyle, looking out over the pool to the basketball goal and reminiscing about what a gay jock she used to be in high school.

“So if we didn’t work together, you’d consider dating me?”

“Dude, I’m trying to let you down easy here,” she trod this path easily, not giving a shit if she hurt Gilfoyle’s feelings because she’d had to deal with enough coworkers coming onto her over the years, “I don’t know if you’re just trying to distract yourself from this Dinesh thing you have or something else entirely, but there’s no chemistry between us. To be honest, I don’t even feel like you’re actually interested in me.”

‘ _Dinesh thing._ ’ God, hearing her say it made it sound like he had a disease. Maybe he did. Something similar to mad cow except exponentially more unpleasant.

“You’re right. I’m not interested. I should be, but I’m not,” he hoped Carla’s weed was as good as she said it was to offset the sharp turn down Repression Road their conversation had taken.

“You don’t like me. That should be a relief. Workplace crushes are so exhausting, which I’m sure you’re aware of by now,” she burst into a shit-eating grin, embracing Gilfoyle’s discomfort, “Come on. At least admit it to me. I bet you haven’t told anyone yet, not even your diary.”

“I’m going inside. Thanks for the drugs.”

“No! No, I’ll stop. I promise. I was just having fun at your expense. Don’t go inside,” she pulled him back down by his sleeve with little resistance.

“You’re such a jerk. You know I rallied to get you hired, right?” He didn’t know where he was going with this; he just thought she should know she owed him.

“Thanks, like I totally needed the help,” she rolled her eyes, filtering out the asshole part of Gilfoyle’s backhanded compliment. The pool chair she reclined in squeaked as she scooted backward to support her lumbar region.

“You deserve this job. You should’ve been here at the beginning of Pied Piper, not Dinesh.” He drummed his fingertips against the bar at the end of his chair. This thought had crossed his mind often. Pied Piper would’ve developed faster, giving them the much-needed leg up they were currently lacking at the moment against End Frame.

“Is that what this is about? You’re mad because you can’t change the past? Yeah, I wish I‘d gotten in with Pied Piper at the beginning. It’s exciting and innovative and everything I love about working in the industry, but I wasn’t there.” It wasn’t her style to think in ‘what ifs,’ but that was apparently where their conversation was headed, “You built this company with Richard and Jared and _Dinesh_ , and you guys have that shared experience that unites you. And maybe if I’d been a part of Erlich’s house, which is honestly the worst experience a woman could ask for by the way, or went to TechCrunch with you guys, _maybe_ things would be different.”

“I _know_ they’d be different. If you were in at the beginning, Jared would’ve cut Big Head and Dinesh because you’re clearly the better coder, but just because he’s been here longer means he’ll stick around,” with this his shoulders heaved with a melancholic sigh.

Uncharacteristically, Carla didn’t provide an immediate response. The whole situation laid itself out before her as she took her time to assess what she’d heard, and suddenly she could see The Point, the reason why Gilfoyle was so upset about her place in the company.

“You think if I were here earlier, and that whole fantasy of yours played out like it did, then you wouldn’t have a crush on Dinesh,” by the way Gilfoyle burned with annoyance, she could tell she’d hit the right nerve, “Let me tell you, you’re totally thinking about this the wrong way. That ship set sail as soon as it hit the harbor, my friend.”

He hadn’t allowed even so much as a whiff of a confession about liking Dinesh into his responses despite her badgering, but this ship metaphor was so ridiculous that he had to engage with it, “So you’re saying if Dinesh wasn’t in the company, I’d still be attracted to him.”

“I mean, he wouldn’t _leave_ the house just because Pied Piper dumped him, so yes you’d still be attracted to him—that is, if you're not just hypothetically attracted to him.”

They filled the following pensive silence watching the water in front of them with the unfocused intensity of campers around a fire at the end of the day, packing and smoking another bowl all the while. Both felt the discussion was over; it was now time to simply enjoy existing next to each other until one of them called it a night.

And despite the circumstances, all was good.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m going to get some work done on ANTON. Carla, would you care to join me?”

He questioned her casually so as to not arouse suspicion from Dinesh, disguising the offer as a work-related venture that would simultaneously exclude his coworker who’d snuck into his servers only to blow the power out on the entire block.

Carla nodded, and only when they were alone in the garage did she speak, “This isn’t about ANTON is it?”

“No. Well, yes. I need your help, but I figured we could multi-task,” Gilfoyle surveyed the space, fully aware that eavesdroppers were unlikely, but he couldn’t take the risk.

“Go ahead,” Carla prompted, “Start multi-tasking.”

“Fine.”

The servers were at risk of overheating in the event of major traffic on their Homicide live stream although he highly doubted they’d get _that_ much traffic; he’d just needed an excuse to talk to Carla in private. His fingers fiddled over various tools and tech before he was comfortable, and his friend understood he needed time to gather his thoughts and say the unthinkable.

“Dinesh and I hung out last night.”

“Oh?” She responded to him with an appropriate amount of interest, waiting for an explanation.

“We were trying to determine whether or not we should let this asshole, Blaine, die.”

“With a name like Blaine, I feel like he’s already earned it,” she caught a quick cue from Gilfoyle that signified their conversation’s importance, so she restrained herself from further veering down any tangents, “Sorry. As you were saying.”

Although in normal conversation he was pithy and sharp, he now stalled, looking for more on-topic information to fill time and build momentum, “Blaine was a real douche to me and Dinesh despite the fact we were going to inform him of an error in his stunt calculations. Anyway, we go back to Homicide for a meeting this afternoon, and we’ll probably spend the majority of it bullshitting and planning Blaine’s funeral. Can you hold my laptop while I do this?”

“Yeah.” She was jarred by the lack of transition between their discussion and work but positioned Gilfoyle’s laptop safely in her arms facing outwards. Incredibly tempted to speak, she bit her tongue, aware she could unintentionally sever the thin connection forming between the two of them.

“I should be fucking furious at him for messing with my servers without my permission, but I’m not. If it were anybody else, they’d be on my shit list for life, but Dinesh…” That sentence didn’t have an ending, or rather, it had infinite endings. _‘But Dinesh is my friend; but Dinesh is hilarious and I’d miss working with him; but Dinesh is the only one of the original Pied Piper founders who I could hang out with every day until I die.’_

His racing heart had increased his vigilance, so even the smallest sound gave him pause. A creak could be Erlich barging in or Dinesh feeling left out and trying to join the party. As soon as he felt the perimeter was secure, he continued and was struck by how soft Carla’s eyes were in the moment. Platonic intimacy was never his strong suit, so he diverted his attention to ANTON.

“I like him, okay? And, no, I’m not going to do anything about it. It’s just something I’ll have to live with. Like herpes.”

“Why do you _still_ hate him? Is there some huge, glaring flaw that I’m missing here, or am I right to say you two would be the most intimidating power couple in Silicon Valley?“

Riding the adrenaline high that was plunging straight to regret, he scoffed at her answer, “You know Dinesh is as close to admitting he’s gay as Pied Piper is to becoming an efficient, lucrative business, right?”

“I get it. I won’t push the topic anymore,” Carla grimaced inwardly at the thought of her past Photoshop hijinks, “Thanks…for telling me all this. I know it’s hard to—“

“I’m done multi-tasking, but thanks for listening,” With that, he took back control of his laptop, turning his complete attention to the tech in front of him.

“Okay, I’ll...see you later I guess,” frankly, she was tired of playing therapist for male coworkers who were too socially backwards to seek professional help, but she felt gratified knowing her friends had a chance in hell at resolving their unbearably obvious affection for each other, “Have fun with the homicide.”


	3. Chapter 3

He spotted her sitting at the bar about 15 seats from the entrance, and if he knew her well enough, she was attempting to catch the eye of woman with black curls and severe makeup.

If all her focus hadn't been directed at Ms. Red Lipstick, Carla could’ve evaded the approaching Evil Bespectacled Chewbacca. Alas…

“She’s way out of your league, you know,” Gilfoyle slipped into the chair next to her, ready for the retort.

Without turning around, she was completely aware of who just chose to sit next to her and ruin her day, “She’s only one tier above me. I can swing it.” Now to go in for the kill, “Heard Pied Piper moved out of its new office space. What, did my little 20 grand bribe put you out of business?” She swiveled to face the bar again and caught Gilfoyle’s mildly annoyed expression hidden behind light-years of beard.

“You wish.”

“Are you here for me, the booze, or the men?”

Gilfoyle replied contemptuously, which was nearly indistinguishable from his other intonations, “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t drink this horse piss if you paid me. I’m here about Dinesh.”

“I see. You’re here to invite me to the wedding,” sipping from her glass, she refocused her energies on listening to Gilfoyle’s spiel. Ideally, she’d tell him to fuck off and complain to another one of the zero friends he has, but good drama was admittedly more intoxicating than alcohol.

“Not exactly. We recently outsourced programming jobs to more affordable employees who don’t demand an arm and a dick from us like some people,” he pointed at her with his words.

“So, let me guess. Dinesh has ‘fallen in love’ with one of them, and you’re jealous. Tale as old as time. Make a move, loser.” What was so hard about this situation?

“It’s more complicated than that. Elizabet, Dinesh’s _girlfriend_ , is an ex-prima ballerina turned coder,” he delivered the news gravely as if he’d just learned the prognosis for his ‘ _Dinesh thing’_ was worse than previously imagined, “He’s head over heels for her, and it’s detracting from my work.”

This was too good. The almighty Gilfoyle had a weakness: a tacky, 5’9” Achilles’ heel. “So you’re sucking because he’s happy?”

“I’m not sucking, and he’s not happy,” before his hackles could rise in protestation, he remembered he was there to seek advice, not prove himself, “I made a mistake. I sold his hard drive because I was distracted, and I shouldn’t have been distracted. I don’t make mistakes.”

“Boo hoo. Apparently you didn’t have younger siblings because Hannah Montana teaches this lesson clearly. In fact, why don’t you ask her to solve your problems? Bartender? Another beer please.” Any friendliness in her voice had turned into aggressive, fake-cheer, goading him to continue at his own risk.

In light of Carla’s rising anger, Gilfoyle’s next question was probably a mistake.

“Why are you being such a bitch?”

“Why **_am I being_** _—_ why am I being such a bitch?” She had to cut herself off and lower the volume to avoid making a scene, “I’m not the asshole who said we were friends but only talked to me when he needed something. I’m not the asshole who acted as if I dropped off the face of the Earth after I left Pied Piper.” She grabbed her new beer, and half expected Gilfoyle to leave rather than to own up to being a selfish shitwad.

Instead of leaving, he froze, watching Carla simmer and drink.

“I _meant_ I don’t make mistakes at work. I—“ He paused to map out the terrain, fully cognizant that his next step could be his last, “I guess I am a pretty shitty friend. I’m not good at talking about real life things because I’ve never really had anyone to talk to about real life things. Believe it or not, people don’t take me seriously.”

This elicited an incredulous laugh from Carla, but despite her irritation, she humored Gilfoyle’s confession, “You’re so stupid. Jesus Christ. Okay, listen. You say this girl, uh, Elizabeth—“

“Elizabet” Once Carla had changed the subject back to Dinesh, a rush of relief made him realize he’d been tensing his entire body in apprehension.

“Whatever. She’s not physically working with you guys, right?”

“She’s set up over a video stream. I think she lives in Estonia.”

“Have they talked about meeting in person?”

“Yeah, she seems to like him for some reason.”

Failing to resist the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped Gilfoyle on the shoulder encouragingly, “Fuck you, okay, this is perfect. Once they meet, he won’t like her anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” They’d just screw in Dinesh’s room, and that was the exact opposite of what he was able to deal with at the moment.

“Dude, if they meet, he’ll realize he doesn’t actually like her, just the _idea_ of her. It’s like how my 10th grade girlfriend spend all of junior high pining after this guy, and when they finally got together, she dumped him on prom night after making out with me,” she smiled at the memory. Good ol’ Sherry’s ass looked so great in volleyball shorts.

The story lightened the mood and returned a much-needed sense of camaraderie to the table, “You’re a hero to us all. So you’re saying I need to put as much pressure as I can on Dinesh to meet her in person, and he’ll dump her.”

“And then you make out with him, but that part’s optional,” she checked her peripherals to see if Ms. Red Lipstick was still in the booth to her right, “Alright, I gave you your advice, so it’s time to fuck off. You’re like lesbian repellent.”

He didn’t take offense to the dismissal, completely understanding the fact he had interrupted Carla’s Mission, “I’ll text you.”

“You better.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but Gilfoyle almost looked like a normal guy when he smiled. _Almost_. He also kind of resembled the goofy-ass Animal Muppet.


End file.
